nodded. ‘I can see the sense in it. We’ve got men, we’ve got women. They might like that kind of thing. Well, just look around. Maybe we should think about launching that for the anniversary.’
‘No way. She wants to call it Fat Friends.’ I whispered, rolling my eyes. A couple of specialist dating websites had popped up in the past few years. I wasn’t one to judge if someone got off on fireman uniforms or wearing nappies. But my gut told me that running a dating business for our clientele risked stigmatising them further. That’s the last thing they needed. ‘We’ve got to come up with a better idea than that. There must be something better we can do for the anniversary.’
‘What’s this?’ Amanda asked, overhearing us.
‘Oh, we’re trying to think of ideas for our anniversary,’ I said.
‘You and Rob are together? I had no idea, congratulations!’
‘Oh no, we’re not—’
‘We’re not a couple,’ Rob said smoothly.
‘What a shame. You’d make a lovely couple.’
‘I think so, but Katie won’t hear of it,’ he said as I reddened further. He grinned to let me know he wasn’t being serious. ‘We’ve got too many cultural differences. She’s a McVitie’s fan and I’m loyal to the Garibaldi. It would never work. We’ve managed to bridge the biscuit divide in friendship though. No, we were talking about an event to officially launch the Curvy Girls Club. Any thoughts?’
Luckily the conversation turned to the launch and my face slowly returned to its normal colour. It wasn’t strictly true that I didn’t want to go out with Rob. He was such a lovely man. Who wouldn’t want to? I’d definitely had fantasies about us strolling together hand in hand along the South Bank, or being wrapped up in his big arms in front of the telly on a Friday night. But things weren’t that simple. We were working together for one thing. We were mates for another. And I couldn’t stop thinking about Alex. Nail in the coffin. Not exactly a recipe for happily ever after.
‘You should plaster yourselves on billboards across the country,’ the man next to Amanda said, eying her appreciatively. We didn’t need a dating website. We should just run more wine tastings.
‘Nah,’ said the man to my right. ‘Nobody pays attention to billboards unless there’s something really eye-catching on it.’ Eyebrows all along the table shot into the air as he realised what he’d just said. ‘I don’t mean you’re not eye-catching! You’re lovely, really! I just meant that people would stop and stare if they saw something out of the ordinary. Though you wouldn’t want them stopping and staring on the M4. Imagine. Pileups across the country from staring at four naked women!’
‘Who said anything about naked?’ Rob asked as the man reddened again. He was on a foot-in-mouth hot streak.
‘Well, that would certainly be eye-catching,’ I said, showing I had no hard feelings about the man picturing my arse above the motorway.
‘Like that programme on Channel 4, How to Look Good Naked. I love that one,’ said Amanda as she glanced at the wine bottle a bit further down the table. Her afternoon suitor obliged, topping up her glass. This was less of a wine tasting than an approved drinkathon. ‘Though those women don’t have anything to worry about. A few extra pounds around their middle and they think it’s the end of the world. They should feature us instead. We’d give Gok Wan a run for his money!’
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